The Right Kind of Sinners
by Blinded Ryter
Summary: Even if the love we shared and nurtured was wrong to the eyes of God, it could only be defined as virtuous and right to our hearts. /Elricest/


**B. Ryter:**I originally wrote this for one of my posts on my Edward roleplaying account. Also, I'm originally a Fullmetal Alchemist writer (though the majority of my stories are all YGO! at the moment). I just haven't had enough time to write some good FMA material, but I thought I would publish this simply for the love of Elricest, and because I feel like it (:

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The Right Kind of Sinner  
_By Blinded Ryter_

Forbidden.  
Taboo.  
Restricted.  
Sin.

There were so many words that could describe what was assumed to be morally wrong and socially unfit of the relationship that came to be between my brother and I. And yet, ever since we were young, we were sinners. We committed our first sin with trying to undo Mother Nature's judgement, and revive the beloved Trisha Elric back to life. Alphonse and I should have learned our lesson since then, but it seemed like God condemned us to be sinners whether it be by the act of Fate, or by the cruel play of Equivalent Exchange. Perhaps He had it in mind to warp our lives into something travail and insurmountable, and due to our own father's sins of the past and bringing the first homunculus to life, we had to pay the price. If that was the first example of Equivalent Exchange, then it was ridiculously unfair.

But Alphonse and I quickly came to realize that every corner, edge, and bit of life was utterly unfair.

Though, at the same time, we taught each other that life could be beautiful and breath taking like the shimmering stars hovering above in the uncharted night skies we gazed at when we were young, or the lurid sun we watched set slowly to let an iridescent twilight play its role afterwards.

I was more than satisfied with this love.  
So was Alphonse.

But apparently, not the world.  
Society.  
God.

Anyone else for that matter.

After dealing some military business with Mustang (who was now Fuhrer and married to Miss Riza who was due in a few months) I returned to our apartment one day, and found Alphonse kneeling on the ground with shreds of thin paper scattered all around him. With violent jerks of the arms, and angry flicks of the wrist the younger Elric continued to rip pages out of what seemed like the Bible, piece by piece, bit by bit. Livid tears were cascading down his face, and dripped off his chin once too much lukewarm water accumulated at the edge. Lips pressed into a thin and firm line, brows drawn together into a scowl, and sheer agony clouded over those ethereal grey eyes of his...

It was amazing and fascinating how broken and beautiful someone could look at the same time.

For some time being, I watched my brother, my partner, my lover, continue to take part in a practice that could probably send every church throughout the land in outrage, and bring worshippers to our house with pitchforks and torches. Then, I felt the dozens of emotions the young boy was experiencing crash into me like a merciless tidal wave, and envelope my entire being with such excruciating pain that I felt as if I being suffocated.

The heated infuriation. The raw misery. The trembling insecurity. The cold fear.

I managed to maintain a calm composure, but the same heavy veil of sorrow set itself over my dimmed topaz hues. Perhaps I could sync with Alphonse's emotions so well, because I used some of my blood in the process of transmuting his body back to being restored. Or perhaps, it was because we had gone through so much together, and had only grown closer ever since.

After all, we brothers, the most sacred bond ever created since the birth of mankind.

Setting my bag down upon the faded carpet, I quietly padded over to where Alphonse sat, and knelt down besides him. Already aware of my presence before I pulled him into an embrace, Alphonse stifled a sob in vain. The two torn pieces of paper clenched in his fists with an ugly crinkling sound as Alphonse turned his head to bury his dampened face in my chest. Releasing the paper from his hands, the younger boy wrapped his arms around me, and wept like an angel that had been wronged, and like a child that was utterly lost, confused, and upset all at once. Though in some sense, we were both still children; Alphonse being sixteen, me being seventeen. Maybe we forgot that, because the word "childhood" was only vestigial and hollow.

Leaning my head against his and stroking his hair, I lowered my gaze to the ground, and blinked when I one shred of paper and its printed letters caught my attention.

_'A man shall not lie with another man as he lies with that of a woman.'_

Rue touching the ghost of a smile on my lips, I could understand Alphonse's frustration too well. I turned my head slightly to press my lips lightly against his forehead, then exhaled softly as I told him it was okay.

"But it's not, Brother..." Alphonse finally spoke, his voice cracking, his tone modulating several octaves.

"And why is that?" I queried in a gentle voice. "Is it how society would look down upon us? Or our friends? Or perhaps even God?"

Drawing in a shaky breath that caused his small and fragile frame to tremble, Alphonse pulled away from me slightly, but only a little bit. He clung onto my shirt, and hung his head as his shoulders raised and fell with the sobs that were gradually becoming worse.

"None...none of those people matter to me, because you are my everything," Alphonse explained between shallow gasps, "and because of that...I'm afraid. What if one day, Brother wakes up and realizes this is wrong, disgusting, and repulsive? What if everyone's attitude towards us finally gets through his head, and he decides to leave? What if he realizes that he deserves better-"

I silenced Alphonse, who was really only mumbling incoherently towards the end, by capturing his lips with mine. After a second to recover, Alphonse returned the kiss softly. Chaste, light, and almost non-existant, but held so much significance for both of us. Within less than five second, we broke apart.

"Honestly, Al," I replied as I played with a lock of his hair, a fragment of my mind musing over how soft the strands were, "I still don't think that I deserve you."

"Brother, you almost died more than _once_ in our perils, _and _you still have your automails, _and _you gave up the vision in your right eye during the transmutation," Alphonse cut in with both bitterness and hurt.

"Still not enough, and if you were in my position, you would say the same," I murmured quietly, then closed my eyes briefly.

Alphonse bit the inside of his cheek, then looked elsewhere; he knew my words were true.

Within a moment of silence, I contemplated on whether or not to say the words I was about to say, since it was like confessing a secret I hid from Alphonse for so long.

"Did you know that there has been days in my life where I just wanted to give up on everything, mostly myself?" I said in a barely audible voice. "Being the sinner I am, I have done so much wrong, especially to you. The despair and misery was unbearable some days..."

Voice trailing off into nothing, I tilted Alphonse's head up, so gold could meet grey, and he could see the warmth that softened my eyes.

"Knowing that someone needs me and loves me is enough of a reason for me to wake up every morning," I said as a smile graced my lips, and held my brother's face in my hands- one metal, one flesh. "And though we blame God for much of our suffering, I thank him everyday for having let you come into this world to be with me."

Alphonse began to blink furiously to hold the tears in, but the waterworks started again anyways. Though this time, I could tell that he was touched, moved, and relieved all at once. Laughing quietly, a light-hearted sound that happened to be my favorite soundtrack, Alphonse pressed his forehead against mine.

"You sound like a broken record, Brother."

I shrugged half-heartedly and grinned.

"I'm a killer for cliches."

Giggling, Alphonse drew me close to him, and kissed me once more. With his arms around my neck, my flesh hand caressing his soft cheek, my metal fingertips tracing the crimson lines of the small transmutation circle on the nape of his neck (it still remained like a tattoo for some unfathomable reason), and our hearts beating at one, I marveled at how fortunate I was to still be with this young boy. Armor or not, Alphonse could have surrendered to death he encountered several times in the past. And now, as a human being of warm flesh and pulsing blood, he could have surrendered to the unsaid laws set in this world that tried to tear us apart.

But only if we were to believe in their world's as the truth would we ever break this sacred bond of ours. It was by the power of our minds and will that would determine if this love could survive.

Maybe Alphonse was going to go to Hell for dismantling the Bible.

Maybe I was going to go to Hell for being the one to kiss him first the day his body was restored, but none of it mattered.

If there were ever a thing such as good and evil, right and wrong, then Alphonse and I had to be the right kind of sinners, because even if the love we shared and nurtured was wrong to the eyes of God, it could only be defined as virtuous and right to our hearts.


End file.
